The
year 1960: As he recounts, once in Stavanger, Norway, Tom Meade hitchhiked to
Oslo, then to Stockholm, Sweden. There he stayed for a time at a house with an
old girlfriend (who was Swedish) in Odenplan. After this time he continued on to the UK, then to Barcelona, Spain. He
lived there on “Las Ramblas,” a popular series of streets in central Barcelona.
From there he took a ship and
found his way to Majorca. Once there he took up residence on the rooftop of a
hotel with a man he befriended en route. After talking with the doorman, Tom
and his new friend got a deal: For .50 cents a day the owner granted permission
for the duo to live on the roof. The situation was not ideal but for the paltry
fee it was.
Adorning the new home base
with tented hammocks, hoisted up between plumbing stacks, they fashioned a
makeshift kitchen, preparing food on a hibachi grille. Of the time there, Tom
recollects: “We lived like kings for .25 cents a day each.”
(Map below: Majorca, Spain: an island off the coast of
Barcelona, Spain, part of the Balearic Islands)
But as soon as it all
happened it came to a close. Tom’s boat friend eventually left, and the
changing situation heralded the final stages for the Italian destination. As the
modus operandi from the very beginning was a passage to Italy, Tom’s focus and
wanderlust beckoned and he was drawn back to the sea.
Going down to the bay he
searched for the right opportunity, for a way off the island. Approaching a
captain/boat owner, Tom found his ship: He was given a place onboard and would
leave for Genoa, Italy, on the condition that he fulfill duties as cook and
deckhand on the 60-foot sailing vessel. The next day they disembarked from
Majorca, setting sail for the magical hinterlands of Maserati and Ferrari.
If it were not enough to
expatriate from America, braving land, sea, and cold, to fulfill a dream of an
Italian lifestyle as a car designer, the fantasy journey was only just beginning.
From Long Beach, to New Orleans, to Norway, to Sweden, to Spain –Italy, the Promised
Land, had yet to even be set foot upon. And once there, Tom’s itinerant mode of
shipping and hitchhiking was about to come to an end.
After the 670-mile/1000
kilometer journey by boat, Tom’s first priority led him up a hill to an
abandoned villa converted into a youth hostel. Tired and hungry from his
seafaring, he ate and noticed something:
“The first evening I was there,
after I ate, I saw a guy riding up on a BSA motorcycle. Curious, I went out and
struck up a conversation with him. And it turned out he was from New Zealand.
We became good chums because I told him my mother was also from there, from
Auckland, off Happy Craenga Road.
“After our talk I went to
sleep. The next morning, after my cappuccino on the stairs, I saw the same guy.
But this time he was riding up on a Vespa. I went out to meet him and said to
him: ‘You change motorcycles like shirts. What happened to the BSA? Who did you
sell it to?’ He replied ‘I threw it away.’
“Where? Why?’ I asked. ‘It
stopped running,’ he said. When he said that I almost had a heart attack. ‘I
would have bought it from you,’ I told him. ‘You don’t have to buy it,’ he replied,
‘I’ll give it to you for free.”
“He walked us around to the
back of the hostel and there it was, the BSA propped up against a wall. He
handed me the papers for it and that was it, it was mine.
“Seated on it, I coasted down
the hill to a nearby gas station. I greeted the owner and asked him if I could
use some of his tools for a while. He
agreed and I got to taking it apart. I checked the points, installed a new
spark plug, cleaned it up. It took about 3 hours in the morning to do it. Although
I didn’t really know what I was doing, I managed to put it all back together. I
then went to kick start it. On the first try, the engine came to life and it
fired right up like a brand new bike. I was so excited that I didn’t even eat
lunch. I bungeed my stuff to the BSA and headed for Rome.”
(below map: Tom’s
route on his BSA motorcycle from Genoa to Rome, Italy, approximately 250
miles/400 kilometers)
“I got to Rome that evening.
And having it in my head the story of the treasure trove there, a main reason
why I left America in the first place, I went looking for that mythical
warehouse with all the racecars, the one where the Old Man went around every
morning with a feather duster. And I thought to myself, with that vision held
so close, ‘I could buy one of them for a song.’ For all purposes I was living
the dream.”
“Later that night, exhausted
from the search, I went to a youth hostel in Rome. I couldn’t wait to fall
asleep. But at around 4AM my sleep was abruptly interrupted. I heard someone
banging on the locker doors. Annoyingly, it awakened me. But I eventually went
back to sleep. And on the second night it happened again. This time I got up to
confront whomever he was.
“He was an American. And
instead of a confrontation we got into a discussion. He said he was working as
an actor on a film for Dino De Laurentiis, with David Niven and Alberto Sordi.
Sordi was big in Italy at the time and is dead now; he was a comedian. The film
was ‘The Best of Enemies.’ The first half was shot in Israel during the day.
The second half was shot in ‘Cinecitta,’ which
was the Italian hub of cinema and where ‘Ben Hur’ was shot. It is also regarded
as synonymous with Federico Fellini.
“We became very friendly, this
actor and I, as he was, too, from California. He told me: ‘You look like an
English officer, exactly what we’re looking for. Come down with me tomorrow at
11AM and I’ll introduce you to De Laurentiis at the soundstage.
“So I did go the next morning
to meet him. Once we were inside, he led us to De Laurentiis who was seated at
a big banquet table. Dino waved to us, a gesture of ‘over here.’ He asked me if
I’d ever done film; I said “I sure have.’ But of course I had to say whatever I
could to get the job. I was starving to death in those days. So I had to say
what he wanted to hear.
“It must have worked because
De Laurentiis hired me. All the scenes where I appeared were done at night.
When the film was in the can I got paid
and rode my BSA up to Modena. I now had the means to continue my quest,
to the Ferrari factory.
“When I arrived in Modena it
was about 7:30 in the evening. And there was a man standing on the corner, at
the crossroads, entering Modena from the south on the Autostrada del Sol (from
Rome). I asked the man where Ferrari was. He said ‘Ferrari is 15 kilometers to
the east. It’s too late to go there now.’
“Where’s Maserati?,’ I asked.
He said: ‘Maserati is about ½ mile down this road to the right. They’ll be open
now, late. You can probably still get in there now.
“Disheveled, my hair and
beard was windblown. I had on army fatigues and boots, which I had gotten from
wardrobe on the film.”
As if cutting from one scene
to another, a sequence from his own life’s movie, Tom wasted no time in his
pursuits; he possessed a bottomless reserve of energy. If it was not going to
be Ferrari that evening, it was going to be something. He then ventured to Maserati,
with the urgency to enter the hallowed automotive Promised Land as soon as
possible just too great, his crossing through the gates of his life’s path
taking place that night.
(map below: Tom’s BSA
journey from Rome to Modena, Italy)
“I pulled up to the gates of
Maserati –the giant factory gates almost prison-like. The guard asked me why I
was there and I just answered ‘I want to see the new Maseratis.
“Once they realized I was
American, they got the chief engineer of Maserati factory, Aurelio Bertocchi,
on the phone to come down. Being American, they assumed I was a millionaire
even though I looked like one of Castro’s freedom fighters. Suffice it to say,
Bertocchi became one of my friends in Modena. He took me to see the production
line where they were building the 3500 GT. I had no real interest in that car,
honestly, as I was only interested in their racecars.
(above photo: Maserati
factory, ca. late 1950s, early 1960s)
“When we reached the end of
the production line, in the back of the factory, we finally came upon the
racing department and the factory foundary. I asked Bertocchi if he could show
me these areas more closely. He happily agreed. He then took me outside to a
back alley. To the left was a car under a tarp. I knew it was a racecar as it
was low slung. I asked him what it was and he said it was a Maserati 350S,
#3503.
(below: 1957 Maserati
Tipo 350S, V12, raced in 1957 Mille Miglia)
“Bertocchi said it was an old
race car they were throwing away. But this was exactly what I was looking for,
so I asked him if I could see it. Initially he said no, but I talked him into
it. After he agreed, I lifted the front of the tarp and saw the most beautiful
nose, the most beautiful mouth, and I was just in shock. They were throwing
this away!
“I walked around to the back,
lifted the tarp, and was just as shocked at how beautiful the car was. Most
cars are not so well done from front to rear. It was typical for me to never
like a whole car from front to rear, but this was a mind-blower, was totally
beautiful from back to front.
“I totally fell in love with
the car and wanted it immediately. Bertocchi said ‘no, we’re not used to
selling used cars here at Maserati.’ I begged and pleaded, almost to my knees,
to buy the car.
“He said, ‘let me get on the
phone, call upstairs to sales, to see if it’s possible if this car can be
sold.’ He left. About fifteen minutes later he returned. I didn’t think it
would ever really happen, I couldn’t be so lucky. When he came back we stood
sizing each other up, and he said ‘okay, we can sell it to you. The price is
$450.”
“I thought he would say
something like ‘the price is $10,000.’ It was the only 4-cam, front engine V12
Maserati ever made. So when he said $450 I became dumbfounded
and couldn’t talk. I wanted to say ‘yes,’ but couldn’t. He saw me fumbling.
Concerned he said ‘oh, okay, I know that’s too much –it’s $420.’ And I blurted
out ‘yes!”
“I had it towed on a flatbed
within a half-hour so it wouldn’t give them any time to change their minds
overnight. The car clearly needed refurbishing but that would come later. I
wanted it out of the factory and in my possession. Prior to my towing it,
Bertocchi asked me ‘where will you take the car? I can get you a truck from
some people who have who have a race car shop in the villaggio artigiano (Artisan’s
Village).’
“They sent a flatbed to the
factory. When the truck arrived, about ten Maserati mechanics came out at about
9:30PM to help lift the car upon the flatbed. One of them was a guy named
Manacardi who later became a friend. Once loaded and secured down, I followed
the flatbed with my Maserati out of the area on my BSA to the villaggio artigiano.
“That night at the shop I slept
on the floor next to the car. Within the recesses of the space, among the smell
of oil and car engines, I felt I was being given access to the Taj Mahal. I couldn’t
even believe it was true. It was like a dream: My first night in Modena, upon
arrival, within hours, I had bought an Italian racecar and spent the night with
it in a racecar shop. This intimacy with cars was to become the theme of my
life.
“In the mean time, Bertocchi
called a friend of his, a farmer, and asked him if he had a place for a young
American who didn’t have any money but had just bought a Maserati race car. The
farmer said ‘yes, send him on down. He can work on the car down where I milk
the cows.’ He cleared out a space for me, a stall next to two cows, and that’s
where I put the car together. Initially, the closest living friends I had at
the time became some field mice in the barn. I named three of them Sniffles,
Coughy, and Squeaky. But there were about ten of them that slept with me up in
the hayloft.
“During my days at the barn,
the young guys, the mechanics over at Maserati, would come over after hours and
help me to get the 350S back to running condition. I also learned Italian being
around them and we all became friends. Manacardi, the manager, would often
arrive as well. We all became family.
“Among the many things in
need of repair it had a broken piston, requiring engine work. As the factory
was nearby, I began a system where, during the day, I would go over there and
get parts for the car. I’d ride up to the guardhouse, park the BSA, they’d call
Bertocchi, and I’d be taken to the parts warehouse with him. It was this huge
mountain of randomly piled Maserati parts dating back from the 1930s.
“They would just throw parts
in there for years and years and years without rhyme or reason. There would be
a 1930s Maserati Gran Prix car front spindle next to a 350S spindle. I would go
through the pile like a squirrel digging for nuts, asking the mechanics if this
part or that part was for the 350S. This went on for a couple of months. I dug
through it about 20 or 30 times and eventually knew all of the parts.
“After a point Bertocchi
stopped accompanying me and he’d just let me raid the pile by myself. He was
very receptive, giving me insanely cheap prices on the rare parts. One
day he said ‘I’ll tell the guard you can come in any time you want.
“He said ‘take what you want
and leave the money on my desk for whatever you think the parts are worth.’ I
realized after that that I had sort of become the factory pet. With this
status, Bernocchi approached me one day saying ‘how would you like to get your
parts without paying for anything?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. He continued to explain: ‘If
you could help the private racing teams find their needed parts I’ll give you
your parts for free.’ By this time I knew virtually where every part was and
knew what they were. So he gave me a job and paid me in parts, 7 days a week. I
had a free run of the factory and was known on a first-name basis. I became
friends with everybody.
“When the car was finished
mechanically, Bertocchi sent me to Medardo Fantuzzi to do the body work.
Fantuzzi bodied the 150, 200, 250, 300, 350S, and 450S Maseratis. He was one of
Bertocchi’s best friends. I spoke with Fantuzzi and offered to help me modify
the body. I wanted to create a fastback road-going berlinetta. In so doing I
would be the first one, in 1961, to create the first true ‘supercar,’ which is
defined as an original racecar modified for the street. Today the term
‘supercar’ is so often used that it has lost its original meaning. Unless it
was originally made to race, it is not a supercar.
“But about the 350S, I had to
put a glass windshield on it because it was originally an open car with a 5” high
plexi racing windshield. So I improvised and got a rear window, of non-safety
glass, from a Maserati 3500 GT. It was a bit too large so I trimmed about 7”
off the top but it had a beautiful swept back shape which was what I was after.
And it was free. Bertocchi gave it to me.
“Now that I was in contact
with Fantuzzi, we discussed my vision for the 350S: I wanted a new hood bubble
installed, side vents, and a fastback removable hardtop. The fastback of my own
design would resemble the then-non-existent Ferrari GTO, somewhat looking like
the Ferrari 250 SWB. I envisioned a rounded, very shapely design, just the very
thing Fantuzzi was in love with. He said ‘yes, absolutely, I can do everything
–it’s going to be exquisite.’
(above: Medardo
Fantuzzi in his workshop, ca. 1970, with 1956 Maserati 250S in background that
Tom modified for street use, with a swept back windshield added)
“Fantuzzi, too, in the same
breath, reminded me of the costs involved. He asked, endearingly, ‘how are you
going to pay for this?’ I just laughed and told him I hadn’t thought about
that. At that point it seemed that every time I thought about something I
wanted it would just happen and come true. He then began eyeing my BSA. And
being a mad collector of British bikes, he said ‘if you give me your motorcycle
I’ll do the bodywork on your car. And while we are doing it, why don’t you just
stay over and sleep here. You can sleep in the shop and watch me work on your
car every day. I’ve got an army cot. You can sleep in front of my oil burner.’
“The oil burner sounded like
100 elephants when it was on, but I didn’t care. I was floating in 7th
heaven. The tradeoff was too valuable. And with the 350S in my possession, a
car driven by Sterling Moss and Gene Behra, I had the most beautiful car
Maserati ever made. And it would have a new life. I agreed to Fantuzzi’s terms
and settled into his shop. That’s how I came to learn how to design and build
aluminum bodies, from the master Fantuzzi. After a couple of months we decided
I would sleep on top of his office, on a mezzanine floor room, on my cot, on
the right hand side as you walked in the front door.
“What a sweetheart he was. He
was the sweetest man I ever met. He was my mentor and I was his protégé, the
BSA motorcycle being the ‘open sesame’ to it all –without it I would have never
accomplished what I set out to do. He showed me everything I know today about
how to create beautiful car bodies. Years later, when he was in his 80s, he was
killed as he fell out of a tree, picking pears –a tragic loss of an wonderful
man. He was one of the most famous designers for racing sports cars in Italy.
The most beautiful Maseratis were of his conception.
“At the Maserati factory
there was a second 350S out back and I bought it for $80. It was a prototype
for the 450S V8 which is worth between 7 and 8 million dollars today. I
realized that these cars were just left around the place like that, as the
junkman wouldn’t take them. There were too many different kinds of metals in
them. And it was too expensive a process to dismantle them. So I bought the
cars for the value of the junk metal.
(above: Maserati 450S,
1956)
“I was the only one so mad,
mad, mad for Masers as this time. Out in the back of the factory, in a swampy
field, there were about 30 cars left out to rot, an automotive graveyard,
with grass growing through the cars’ bodies. Among some of them were the 1958
‘Eldorado’ Tipo 420M, a V8 Maserati Indy car. I was a blessing in disguise for
them, saving many of these cars from a grim fate. I bought a mid-engine
Maserati ‘bird cage,’ too, for about $30.
‘Birdcage’ was an apt name for the car as it had the most complicated of all spaceframes. The combination of that chassis, with a four-cylinder twin-cam, became one of Maserati's most famous models. But at the time they were disposable; the factory wanted them gone and I wanted them to restore.
‘Birdcage’ was an apt name for the car as it had the most complicated of all spaceframes. The combination of that chassis, with a four-cylinder twin-cam, became one of Maserati's most famous models. But at the time they were disposable; the factory wanted them gone and I wanted them to restore.
(above: 1958
“Eldorado” Tipo 420M, a V8 Maserati Indy car)
(above: Maserati Tipo
60 “Birdcage”)
“Eventually I rented a
bedroom apartment in Modena for $8 per month. But that was overpriced even for
that time. However it was right on the Aeroautodromo and I had cars stacked up
in garages there. At that excellent locale I was able to see all the Ferraris,
the prototypes, being tested. I became friends with the drivers such as Chris
Amon and Michael Parkes. The circuit was eventually demolished in 1975 and the site redeveloped
as a public park to honor Enzo Ferrari.”
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